Have You Ever?
by Paul-Agnew
Summary: Starting over can be tough, even when you've done it at least twice. Perhaps one brave teenage femchidna will finally leave the world as a better place.


She hated hospitals.

An unusual, almost sadistic thought for someone to have. One she didn't intend to share openly beyond a partly concealed expression of exasperation. Underpaid and overworked nurses and carers bustled through the weathered corridors, evidently built during a time when civilisation was either low on resources, or without the knowledge of foresight to one day handle an increased aged population. Either seemed plausible, though she mentally leaned towards the former. Hardly a surprise, given the way the previous monarch held their home in a grip of iron. Or more specifically, a grip of leather. Eh, iron sounded more intimidating.

With a huff, she figured the nurses or families wouldn't take very kindly to hear someone publicly share her disdain for the medical system. Or given how preoccupied they were in their own thoughts, they probably wouldn't hear, let alone care. Not much of a surprise there, either.

Hospitals were undoubtedly the backbone for many civilisations, so what would be the cause of her disdain? Technology had progressed over the past decade or so, and with it came the advancement of treatment. People were living longer. Fatalities during childbirth, both for the parent and infant, had dropped tenfold. Families who should've been torn apart were meticulously stitched back together. Scans for new and previously undetected diseases brought hope to many. Surely all these progressions and more would bring a smile to her teenage lips?

And yet, she still hated coming here.

Pacing back and forth through the hallway like a maniac did little to alleviate her problem. Briefly pausing to remove a pair of clear rectangular glasses, the other paw caressed her aching eyelids before sliding upwards. A yawn managed to escape upon reaching her forehead, fingers and thumb pushing into spots of fur hidden beneath a bush of rich lilac hair. Sleep deprivation had taken a pretty high toll on her well-being, leading to a particularly nasty headache. To make matters worse, an almost audible growl emanated from below.

Skipping breakfast turned out to be a horrible idea, especially given how much energy she burnt flying all the way over here. A nearby sign from earlier indicated a café wasn't too far from the ward, and with luck, they might have a honey bar or even a packet of jelly beans to temporarily boost her glucose levels. Sorely tempting, but what if a doctor showed up and she wasn't around? No, she'd have to work through the pain for a few more hours.

Readjusting the glasses, a small alcove containing an open basin caught her attention. Turning the blue tap counter-clockwise, she flinched as air pumped through the ancient rattling pipeline, eventually surrendering an inconsistent flow of copper water. How unsurprising. A grunt of frustration and a kick to the the pipe twice. Before the teen could try punching instead, the discoloured water gradually cleared. A pair of paws greedily cupped and raised the life-giving liquid, showering her burning face and forehead in rapid succession. She didn't care that the water was lukewarm, nor neglecting to remove the glasses in her haste. She did however care for the bitter taste racing along her tongue. Clear, but definitely not clean.

Deciding not to attempt that last trick a second time, she turned and walked towards a set of four recently vacated chairs. Initially sitting down would've run the risk of getting too relaxed and doze off, but at this point she needed to conserve as much energy as possible. A minute or two probably wouldn't hurt.

The teen settled onto the middle left chair. Rigid and unpadded plastic was far from ideal, though she could overlook it given the relief it brought to both aching feet. The whole ordeal reminded her of the first time she visited a hospital, a memory from (literally) an entire lifetime ago, yet irrevocably rooted deep within her mind. The more she focused on reliving this recollection, the more her head slightly drooped and eyes gradually closed without realising it…

*A dying light flickered above her little head. She'd never seen this place before, and the eerie shadows cast upon the chipped walls frightened her. According to her mother, it was a special secret place, one where people are taken to get better. This intrigued her, which formed a beautiful image within her highly imaginative and hopeful mind of somewhere bright and warm. A place where peace bloomed and none of those frightening yet shiny monsters dared step.

*It went without saying the harsh veracity left her illusion shattered beyond repair. To make matters worse, her mother left strict instructions to wait outside and remain as quiet as possible. Not being by her side constantly caused the girl to shiver in worriment that she may never return. Despite such imagination, her developing mind refused to understand, though more likely accept, what her mother exactly meant by 'never return'.

*A muffled scream and clash of steel on tiles caused her to shoot upright. Something of great distress was happening behind that giant wooden door, perhaps to her mother. She told her not to move, but a combination of innocent sincerity and curiosity gripped her emotions. Hopping off the chair, the girl hobbled over to the door and pressed her right ear against it. Still too solid to make out anything. A glance upward revealed the handle, barely low enough to reach. With a tug as mighty as her small paws could muster, she carefully widened the gap enough to get one eye through.

*Pressed on a makeshift table was one of her mother's friends, a pink female chameleon with blood pouring profusely from numerous wounds over her chest. Other Mobians rushed around in panic, others grabbing pieces of strange and bizarre equipment. Standing over the body was her mother, shouting a mixture of orders and words she'd never heard of before. A silent gasp escaped her as the chameleon writhed and struggled on the table, causing her mother to shout louder, including a number of things she'd been instructed to never use under any circumstances. Drawing her eye right, a plastic rectangular box was giving off a weird pitch that seemed to get higher as her body shook more violently.

*Before she could comprehend it, the machine reached a crescendo, and instantly stopped. The chameleon also ceased moving and settled down. Surely that was a great thing, so why did her mother suddenly grab her body and start crying? They got her to sleep, and this would surely wake her up?

*Wait. Why wasn't her chest rising and falling?

The teenager returned to the land of the living with a little jump, her eyes focused on a nearby sombre looking female duck. Tall, blonde feathered, seemed to be on the cusp of middle age. Having finished their conversation with a younger vixen, she briskly approached.

'Excuse me, miss…?'

'Yeah?' Peering up, the pair made awkward eye contact. Was the agitation that prevalent in her voice?

'My name is Louise Quack. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, it must be hard watching your… grandfather, is it?'

'Yeah.'

While not related by blood (unless they were yet another super secret and long lost member of her illustrious bloodline), it would save time to nod and go along with it.

'I never did catch your name earlier, miss. You are…?'

'Jani-Ca.' Yet another lie, but she didn't care by this point.

'Well Jani-Ca, I thought you'd like to know that we've finished our scan. Perhaps it's best we talk about it somewhere more private?'

'Here will do.' A blunt response, perhaps too blunt in hindsight.

'Well then…' Leaning against the opposite chair, the mallard gently sat down and took a deep breath. '…I won't lie. We've done everything we can, and there's no way we can save him. He has a few hours, maybe a day at most.'


End file.
